Total Drama Throwback!
by Jamie am I
Summary: For four seasons, Chris McLean has tortured various teens on the Total Drama series. Now it's your turn to compete for the million dollar prize! Submit your contestants and watch as they relive elements from all four past seasons. Watch as all new drama unfolds before them! Life-threatening challenges, lies, love, and more await you on Total Drama Throwback! APPS CLOSED!
1. The First Commercial

_Total Drama Throwback!_

**Disclaimer: **The rights of _Total Drama Island_ belong to its distributors: Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. The characters of Chris McLean, Chef Hatchet, and the thirty-seven original contestants of the first four seasons belong to the aforementioned companies.

* * *

"Greetings, viewing world," Chris McLean said, standing on the infamous Dock of Shame. His pearly white teeth were bared in a charming, yet faintly sadistic smile. "Chris McLean, the host of _Total Drama_, here!"

Chris spread his arms out on either side of his body, gesturing to the campground that stood behind him. "For the last five years, the producers of this show and I have given you such pleasures as _Total Drama Island, Total Drama Action, Total Drama World Tour,_ and our latest installment of our series: _Total Drama Revenge of the Island_! You've followed your favorite contestants through the seasons, watching them compete in grueling challenges, all in the quest for fame, as well as the chance to win the monetary prize offered at the end of the season. Well, we've decided to switch these things up a bit this season!"

Chris' smile grew ever wider as he snapped his fingers. A blonde intern came bounding onto the dock, her hair in disarray and her clothes tattered and covered in mud; she looked as though the faintest of breezes could knock her over. Chris snapped his fingers again, and the intern handed him a sheet from the stack of papers she held in her hands.

"You're dismissed," Chris told her, waving the intern off.

The intern smiled meekly at Chris, and proceeded to faint.

Chris held the sheet of paper up to the camera's lens. "I hold in my hand an application for this year's season of _Total Drama_. Twenty-two all new teens will be competing this season, and we want _you_ to be one of them! That's right! You, our beloved audience members, all have the chance to become a contestant on _Total. Drama. THROWBACK! _So, what are you waiting for, future Campers? Send in an application, and enter for your shot at _Total Drama_ fame and a whopping one million dollars!

"You'd better hurry up with those applications, though," he continued. "Time is of the essence, and we want to get this season under way! So, get crackin' on those apps, guys! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

Below is the application for all prospective competitors. Please fill out the application in full, and try to be as detailed as possible when filling them out; these are _your_ characters, and I don't want to have to create them all from scratch. The more detail you put into the application, the higher likelihood you have of capturing my interest, and of ending up a contestant.

But, bear in mind a few things:

1) Just because you put a lot of details in your application does not necessarily mean you will be selected.

2) I am looking for _DIVERSITY_ in these contestants. I don't need twenty-two Goth girls. Send in your daredevils, your private detectives, your drama queens, your contestants who only speak in Elvish. Whatever comes to mind! Creativity is key!

3) Please, do not send in any Mary Sues or Gary Stues. Unless that is their character flaw.

4)Have fun! This story is written entirely for the sake of your guys' enjoyment! I want you to have a good time.

* * *

_Contestant Application_

BASIC INFORMATION

Name (Last, First):

Age (15 – 19):

Stereotype:

APPEARANCE:

Hair:

Eyes:

Height:

Weight:

Body Marks (Including tattoos, scars, moles, etc.):

Physical Disabilities (If any):

Other (Facial structure, or anything else you feel I should know):

CLOTHING:

Everyday Wear:

Alternative Everyday Wear:

Swimwear:

Sleepwear:

Accessories:

PERSONALITY:

In 5 Words, Describe Your Contestant:

In A More Detailed Description, Tell Me More About Their Personality:

Weaknesses:

Typical Friends:

Typical Enemies:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Phobias:

A Brief History:

Why Total Drama?:

ROMANCE

Is Your Character Single?:

Would They Like To Be In A Relationship?:

If So, With Whom?:

GAMEPLAY

What Is Their Basic Strategy?:

How Would They React To Being Voted Off First?:

Voted Off Before The Merge?:

Voted Off After The Merge?

Voted Off Before The Finale?:

Second Place?:

Winning?:

OTHER

Anything Else:

Audition Tape:


	2. The Second Commercial

**Disclaimer:The rights of Total Drama Island belong to its distributors: Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. This fan fiction is rated T for moderate language, mild violence, and mild sexual themes. You have been warned.**

* * *

Chris was on the Dock of Shame again, his shirt off as he reclined on a beach chair. A sun reflector lay open in his lap, and a pair of sunglasses sat atop his perfectly gelled hair. The same intern from before was with him, fanning the egotist with a palm frond.

"Hello again, viewers," he said, folding the reflector and tucking it away. "It's been a few days since we launched our last commercial, asking you to send in applications to become one of the contestants on our newest season of _Total Drama_. At this point, we have accepted _ applicants who we're sure will bring a whole slew of drama to our latest show."

Chris snapped his fingers. "Intern!" he barked. "The list, please!"

The intern let out a breath of relief and dropped the frond, eager to rest her arms. She reached into her pants pocket and fished out a piece of notebook paper. She held the paper out to Chris, who snatched it from her hands.

"You're dismissed," he said.

The intern gave a meek smile, and walked off the dock, dragging the palm frond behind her.

"Now then," Chris said as he smoothed out the piece of paper, "allow me to read off the list of accepted competitors!

"Cassidy Andrews!

"Hayden Barnes!

"Xavier Chavez!

"Heavenly Grace!"

Here, Chris stopped. He pulled a pair of half-moon reading glasses out from behind his beach chair and set them over his eyes.

"Heavenly Grace?" he repeated as he looked over the contestant's name again. "You're kidding me. There's no way this girl's name is really Heavenly Grace."

He turned to look at the cameraman. "Is this name for real?"

The camera tilted up and down in a nod-like gesture. Chris slapped a hand to his forehead and let out a long sigh.

"What ever happened to parents naming their kids _normal_ names? You know what? Whatever. Let's move along. In addition to Amazing Grace and the other contestants I have mentioned, we have also accepted…

"Fiona James!

"Daniel Kent!

"Reid Lynwood!

"Renaldo Reppucci!

"Abbey Wells!

"Kleine Van Housen!

"And, last, but not least, Shimazu Yoshihisa!"

Chris arched a brow and slapped his hand against his face again. "Seriously? Why can't any of these teenagers have normal names? Is that so much to ask for?"

* * *

**Congratulations to the contestants who have made it in so far! With eleven competitors accepted, I am still in need of eleven more: four males and seven females! Keep the apps coming, and keep the ideas original!**

**Until next time,**

**Jamie am I**


	3. The Third Commercial

**Disclaimer:The rights of Total Drama Island belong to its distributors: Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. This fan fiction is rated T for moderate language, mild violence, and mild sexual themes. You have been warned.**

* * *

For the third time, Chris was on the Dock of Shame. His foot tapped impatiently on the wooden planks and a small set of index cards were clutched tightly in his hands. The same blonde intern from the past two commercials stood beside him, a silver serving tray held in her hand. Her eyes were drooping shut, and her hair was a tangled mess. It appeared as though the effort of holding up the tray with Chris' iced tea was taking more of a physical toll on her than it should.

"Okay," Chris said, furrowing his brow, "it's been over a week since we started accepting applications for _Total Drama Throwback_, and we _still_ need more competitors. Since our last commercial was broadcasted, our producers have decided to drop one of our previous contestants, and added six newbies to the lineup. Much to _my_ relief, Yoshiahisa Sashimi was dropped from the cast."

"Shimazu," the intern muttered under her breath.

"Irregardless!" the host snapped, knocking the tray upwards, out of the girl's hands. The glass went soaring high into the air, spilling its contents over the top of the girl's head. She stood there for a moment, eye twitching, hands clenched indignantly at her sides. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel, and stalked off the dock.

"Moving right along," Chris continued, turning his attention the index cards. "The following applicants have been accepted to join the cast of _Total Drama Throwback…_

"Lewis Alexander.

"Deborah Bartley.

"James Collier.

"Rebecca Kwan.

"Zoey O'Donaldson.

"And finally, Shann Tonee, proving that whenever we get rid of a contestant with a ridiculous name, we're bound to get one more." Chris tossed the index cards aside and let out a melodramatic sigh. "Look, I just want to get this application process over, so that I can get to inflicting torment on these freaks. Can you make my job easy on me, please?"

"Make _YOUR_ job easy?!"

The blonde intern came stomping back onto the dock, running a hairbrush angrily through her tangled locks. "You want to talk about a job that needs to be easier? Why don't we talk about the fact that _I_ work for _you_: the most sadistic _creep_ in all of Canada!"

* * *

Once again, congratulations are in order for the contestants who have been accepted. But, I still need _eight more competitors_. Four guys, four girls. It would be great to get some hardcore athletes, jocks, egotists, and down-and-dirty competitors, but creativity is still welcomed!

Send in those apps, guys!

Best regards,

Jamie am I


	4. Return to Wawanakwa - Part 1

**Disclaimer: The rights of Total Drama Island belong to its distributors: Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. This fan fiction is rated T for moderate language, mild violence, and mild sexual themes. You have been warned.**

**A/N:** In the third commercial, I listed Rebecca Kwan as one of the newest additions to the cast. Though Rebecca was initially supposed to appear in my story, I ultimately made the decision to drop her from the lineup of characters. My apologies to Rebecca's creator, Cat the Alien.

Also, be sure you **go onto my profile, and vote in the latest poll** that I have posted! **It's crucial to the direction of this story.** Much appreciated!

* * *

"Welcome back, viewers, to _Total Drama Throwback_!" Chris McLean shouted, raising his hands higher above his head as he emphasized each word of the show's title. "For the last few weeks, we here at _Total Drama _have been asking you all to send in your applications to be a competitor on our latest season. After much deliberation – by which I mean, a desperate scramble to round up twenty-two of you weirdoes – the producers and I finally managed to put together a cast that we feel will pack a punch unlike any other in this show's history."

Chris' eyes turned to look past the camera, and his grin widened. "Speaking of the aforementioned weirdoes, here comes our first! Everybody, let's give a _Total Drama_ welcome to the first competitor of the season: Abbey Wells!"

A small boat pulled up alongside the Dock of Shame. The girl riding the boat stepped off its polished deck, onto the Dock of Shame, and the boat sped off as quickly as it had pulled up.

"Abbey," Chris greeted, forming his fingers into the shape of two guns and clicking his tongue.

Abbey smiled good-naturedly at the host. "Hey, Chris," she responded, her Liverpool accent prominent even in her short greeting.

Abbey, at first glance, didn't look a day older than twelve; it appeared as though she barely cleared five feet in height, and her mousy brown hair was kept out of her face by means of a small, black ribbon. She extended a hand and took a step forward to formally greet Chris, only to trip over her hulking black combat boots.

"Smooth," Chris mocked, sliding his hand to emphasize his sarcasm.

A light tint of red crept over Abbey's pale cheeks. She hurriedly picked herself up and righted herself, smoothing the wrinkles out of her Beatles jacket and straightening her bow.

"Barely here fer two minutes, and I've already made a complete divvy of muhself on national TV," she said, her blush deepening.

"_Inter_national," Chris corrected. "And don't sweat it; your little slip up won't be anything compared to the rest of this season."

Abbey frowned. "Thanks fer that," she muttered.

Chris flashed her another sadistic smile and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Abbey took the hint and walked to the far side of the dock as another boat pulled up, dropping off a second competitor.

Another girl stood on the Dock of Shame, sporting a bright red tank top and a pair of black midrise shorts. A soccer ball bounced idly on her right knee.

"Zoey," Chris called.

"Hey, McLean," Zoey called back. The tip of her tongue was clamped between her teeth as her bright blue eyes followed the ball up and down, determined to not let it fall as she continued to bounce it.

Chris tapped his foot impatiently. "You gonna join us anytime soon?" he snapped.

Zoey's eyes snapped from the ball to Chris. She grinned sheepishly, and with a sharp jerk of her knee, sent the ball high into the air. The ball soared and Zoey took the opportunity to tuck a strand of her wavy brown hair behind her ear. Then, with precise timing, she held her hands out before her and caught the ball as it came back down.

"That's better," Chris said.

Zoey shrugged as she tucked the ball under her arm. "Well I'm sorry," she said, "but if you guys hadn't taken so long to pick me up, maybe I wouldn't have had to find ways to pass the time."

Chris rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. "Whatever," he sighed, "just go make nice with Abbey over there."

Zoey glanced behind Chris, toward Abbey. The Liverpool lass smiled at her fellow competitor and Zoey traipsed over to her.

"Hey there," Zoey said.

Abbey's smile broadened and she extended a hand to Zoey. "Hey," she greeted back. "Muh name's Abbey."

Zoey took Abbey's hand in her own and gripped it tightly. "Zoey," she said. A black blob on Abbey's right wrist caught Zoey's attention, and she tilted her head to make out what it was.

"Nice ink," Zoey said, eyeing the tattoo on Abbey's wrist. 'Let it be' was etched across the pale stretch of skin in elegant black script.

"Thanks," Abbey said. "Nice necklace."

Zoey's hand reached for the pendant that dangled from her neck. A silver heart inscribed with the words 'Daddy's girl' hung from a thin box chain.

"Thanks," Zoey said. Her response was curt, but civil. Abbey sensed the subtle tension in Zoey's voice but decided not to pry; she instead directed her attention to the next contestant, who had just been dumped off the boat and was now lying in a tangled mess on the planks of the Dock of Shame.

"My lawyers won't hesitate to sue you!" the boy screamed, shaking his fist at the retreating boat.

Zoey and Abbey groaned internally, whereas Chris groaned outwardly. "Courtney," he griped, "I thought I made it clear that you couldn't compete on this season."

The boy whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at the host. "Very funny, McLean," he said dryly.

"I'd like to think so," Chris smirked. He glanced at Abbey and Zoey, and gestured to the disgruntled boy. "Ladies, it's my total displeasure to introduce you to Xavier Chavez."

Xavier scowled at Chris and scrambled to his feet, showing that he was taller than all others on the dock by a good head. "I think I'm more than capable of introducing myself," he seethed. He walked to the girls, back torturously straight, and greeted them with a professional smile. He opened his mouth, ready to offer a formal introduction, but stopped when his cell phone went off. He held a finger up to the girls, as a form of pardoning himself, and fished his cell phone from the pocket of his khaki trousers.

"You've reached Xavier Chavez," he said into the receiver. He waited for the other person to explain their business, and his eyes brightened when they finished. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Pachyderm, thank you for returning my call. I take it you read through my proposition on immigrant prevention?" **[1]**

Abbey and Zoey exchanged uncomfortable glances as Xavier continued on with his phone conversation.

"I'm glad that you agree!" Xavier said, enthusiastically. "Immigration has gotten -"

He was suddenly cut off when Chris grabbed the cell phone from Xavier's hands. The host snapped the cell phone shut and tucked the mobile device into his shirt's breast pocket.

Xavier looked livid; his face reddened, rivaling the color of his woolen sweater vest, and his stormy eyes seemed to darken. "I was discussing political strategies that could potentially improve my country's functionality and economic standing," he said coolly.

"No," Chris said, flicking the right-wing extremist harshly on his nose. "You were boring the audience and _me_. And, if I may so bold as to remind you of the contract that you signed before signing up for this show, you might remember agreeing to the confiscation of any and/or _all_ electronics that might allow contestants contact with the outside world, unless I deem otherwise."

Xavier locked eyes with Chris and stared angrily at the shorter man. Chris met Xavier's stare with one of his own, and the teenager finally let loose an exasperated grunt.

"Don't think this is over, McLean," Xavier snarled.

"Oh, I'm so scared," Chris grinned. "What are you going to do? Drench me in oil? Your hair appears to be gelled enough."

Xavier rolled his eyes and fumed silently as he stalked off to stand beside Zoey and Abbey.

"That's what I thought," Chris said. "Now, if you wouldn't mind giving a welcome to our next contestant: Renaldo!"

Even though the boat was quite a distance away from the dock, it was clear that Renaldo towered over the other competitors, in both height and girth. Renaldo looked like little more than a large black mass, clad in a black, three-piece suit that was exquisitely tailored and flattered even his portly physique.

The boat puttered to a halt alongside the dock, and Renaldo stepped down. The boat seemed to float a little higher in the water, and took off.

"Renaldo," Chris said, tilting his head upwards to look at the gargantuan teen.

Renaldo looked down at Chris in turn. He brought a large, hammy hand to his head and removed the black homburg that sat there, revealing the black mass of hair that he kept underneath. Then – with what the others felt must have been extreme effort – he bowed lightly to Chris, and clapped his free hand to the host's shoulder, nearly knocking him over.

"Mr. McLean," he said, his voice heavy with Italian undertones, "it is a pleasure to be here on _Total Drama Throwback_." He placed a kiss on the host's knuckles and the older male retracted his hand.

"Uh… thanks, dude," he said, slightly put off by the forward display. "If you'd join the others?"

Renaldo nodded and placed his cap back on his head. He then proceeded to bound over to the other competitors as the boat returned, bearing not one, but four individuals. Three women and one boy stood on the deck of the ship, supporting a large, brown crate with holes cut in the top to allow airflow. A faint muffling could be heard from inside the crate as the four of them lifted it off the boat, and lowered it onto the dock.

One of passengers, an older woman, came forward and gently pet one of the box's sides. "Now, Deborah," she said soothingly, "we're going to let you out of here, but you have to promise that you will exit calmly, and not put up a fuss, alright?"

One of the other girls snorted. "Deb?" she cackled, flipping her blonde and brown hair over her shoulder. "Not put up a fuss? That's like asking a fish not to swim."

The older women looked sternly at the other girl. "Hush, Miranda," she whispered.

Miranda held up her hands defensively and stood off to the side of the others, clearly not wanting to deal with Deborah, for whatever reason. The other contestants exchanged uneasy glances, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the girl that required her to be transported via crate.

The older woman squeezed her fingers so that they were clutched beneath the crate's front board. "Jason, Cynthia," she said, motioning to the other two. "Would you two give me a hand?"

"Sure thing, Brenda," Cynthia said, grabbing Jason lightly by the elbow and leading them toward the crate. The two of them slipped their fingers under the opposite side of the board, just as Brenda had, and looked back at her, waiting for her command.

"Deborah," Brenda said again, pressing her face closely to the crate, "on the count of three, Cynthia, Jason, and I are going to let you out of there. I want you to exit calmly, okay?"

"Please don't be another Izzy," Zoey pleaded.

"Or another Eva," Xavier added. The others shuddered.

"One… two… three!"

On Brenda's count, Jason and Cynthia pulled their fingers forward with all of their strength, breaking the front of the crate free from its frame. As soon as the board clattered onto the planks of the Dock of Shame, Deborah came darting out of the crate in a blur of brown and black. She leapt from the dock and clawed clumsily at the boat's golden railing. Miranda was quicker, however, and wrapped her arms around Deborah's stomach before she could get a proper grip. Deborah was dragged back onto the dock, her arms and legs flailing wildly.

"No!" she screamed, trying to push herself free of Miranda's grip. "Let me go! The shop needs me! Who will serve the customers?! And clean?! And serve the customers?! And clean some more?!"

"Hopefully we might actually get a chance to," Miranda said, dryly. Her companions looked disapprovingly at her, but she merely shrugged, Deborah still gripped tightly in her arms.

Brenda walked over to Chris and extended a hand to him. "Mr. McLean?" she asked.

Chris ignored Brenda's hand and opted, instead, to pound proudly on his chest. "The one and only," he said. "If there was another one of me, I think the world might implode from my sheer amazingness."

Brenda cocked a brow at the egotist. "Er… right," she said, clearly uncomfortable. "Anyway, the others and I just wanted to thank you for accepting Deborah to be on this show. As you can see, the poor dear has worked herself into quite a state."

Deborah had broken free of Miranda's grip and was currently perched atop the crate she had arrived in, kicking at the grabbing hands of her captors. She actually hissed at Jason after his pinky grazed her shoe.

"I hadn't noticed," Chris said, completely serious.

"Just please, try to get her to think about something other than work," Brenda pleaded.

Chris laughed at Brenda's menial request and patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Rest assured, my good lady. Working will be the last thing on Deborah's mind."

Brenda gave Chris an uneasy glance, but ultimately nodded and gave a brief thanks. She then turned to the three teens, who were still surrounding the crate. "Let's go then," she said to them.

The three teens nodded in unison and ran around to one side of the crate. With a quick look at each other, the three of them threw themselves against the crate, tipping it over and sending it careening into the waters of Lake Wawanakwa. Deborah yelped as she was knocked from her pedestal and fell into the water. Brenda and her comrades seized their opportunity to leave Deborah, and clambered onto the deck of the boat, which promptly sped off. Deborah continued to thrash in the cold waters surrounding the dock.

"Well then," Chris said, "that takes care of that." He then proceeded to walk over to the fallen panel from the crate and kicked it off the dock, sending it into the waters along with the rest of Deborah's former prison.

"There are bettah ways to dispose of that, y'know," Abbey frowned.

Chris shrugged. "This way was more convenient."

Deborah's hand broke through the water and latched onto the edge of the dock. Digging her nails into the eroding wood, the hi-strung girl clawed her way onto the dock. Her clothes were soaked and clung tightly to her skin. Her light brown hair fell around her face in a curtain of damp tangles, obscuring all but her pale, pink lips, which were gasping harshly for air.

"I gotta hand it to ya, Deb," Chris said as he grabbed her by the collar of her black t-shirt, "you certainly know how to make an entrance."

Deborah batted Chris' hand away from her, indignantly. She whipped her hair so that it gathered on one side of her head and, gathering it in her hands, wrung the water from her soaking locks. The water pooled at her feet, further drenching her black sneakers.

"You can't do this to me, McLean!" she screeched, "I've got a coffee shop to run!" She gestured to thefront of her shirt. A brown coffee cup was printed on the front of her shirt, with the words "Coffee Time" forming a circle around it. The logo was slightly distorted, however, due to the water, which made her shirt stick tightly to the contours of her large chest.

Chris' eyes lingered on the distorted coffee cup, making Deborah blush profusely. "MR. McLEAN!" she shouted, bringing one arm up to cover her breasts, while she struck Chris across the face with her free hand. Chris reeled backwards from the unexpected blow, crashing into Abbey and Xavier, the latter of which had also been staring at Deborah's chest.

Zoey rolled her eyes at the two men, who were currently trying to untangle themselves from their snarled. "Men," she muttered indignantly. She looked up to stare into Renaldo's face. The giant looked back at her, an eyebrow cocked. "No offense, 'naldo."

As the trio continued in their attempts to straighten themselves out, Deborah joined Zoey and Renaldo with a sigh of defeat. Another cigarette boat pulled alongside the dock in the meantime, dropping off a third male contestant.

The boy was exceptionally handsome, if not a bit babyish in terms of facial development. His skin was a light, creamy color, which offset the stellar blue of his eyes. A shock of golden hair sat on top of his head, the bangs of which were styled into a set of neat, gentle spikes. He brought a hand to his head and scratched awkwardly at the spikes as he eyed the flailing mess that was Chris, Abbey, and Xavier.

"Did I come at a bad time?" he asked.

Chris looked up as he worked on pulling his leg out of the tangled mess. "Bryant!" he greeted, giving his leg a tug. "Good to see you!"

"I wish I could say the same," Bryant chuckled.

Chris blushed, clearly displeased with having been embarrassed in front of a contestant, rather than the other way around. "We're just experiencing a minor difficulty," he lied. "Shouldn't take more than a second." He tugged again on his leg, but tripped over himself and fell to the ground.

Bryant walked over to the floundering trio and evaluated them for a moment. Then, with total precision and coolness, Bryant reached his arms into the mass of limbs. Contorting their extremities hither and thither, Bryant had the Chris and the two unfortunate competitors standing upright again in a matter of seconds. Satisfied with his work, he stepped back and tucked his hands into the pockets of his white, hooded jacket.

Chris stared at Bryant in shock. "Dude," he said, looking over himself as though looking for alterations in his body. "How did you do that?"

Bryant smiled at Chris and shrugged. "Out of clutter, find simplicity," he said, scuffing the sole of his black-and-yellow sneakers against the dock's wooden panels. **[2]**

Chris cast Bryant a confused glance. "Beg pardon?" he asked.

"It's just a bit of advice," Bryant told him. He then turned his attention to the front of his brilliant blue t-shirt, and idly traced his finger along the outline of the silhouetted archer printed on the front. "For future reference."

"Uh… O-kay," Chris said, rubbing awkwardly at the nape of his neck. "Just… Just go stand over there, or… something."

Bryant looked up his shirt and flashed Chris another smile. Nodding, he began to walk over toward Zoey and the others.

"Freak," Chris muttered quietly.

Chris apparently wasn't quiet enough, though, and Bryant rounded on him sharply. Bryant's face turned an angry shade of scarlet, and his jugular vein throbbed harshly against the skin of his neck. He grabbed Chris by the front of his shirt and drew him closer, to the point that their noses nearly touched. "EX_CUSE _ME?!" he growled at Chris, his breath hot on the host's face.

Chris paled at Bryan't sudden hostility, and the other contestants shrunk back in fear. Renaldo stepped forward, protectively putting himself in between Bryant and the girls.

"Bryant," Renaldo said. "Let's take it easy."

Bryant ignored Renaldo, and pressed his and Chris' faces ever closer. "What'd you call me?" he seethed.

Chris tried to say something in response, but his voice seemed lost in his throat. "D-d…" he stuttered.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?" Bryant yelled, his hands trembling as he clutched the front of Chris' shirt tighter.

Renaldo walked up to Bryant and placed a hand against the top of the smaller boy's back. "Bryant," he said again, "Calm yourself, and let go of Mr. McLean, here."

"No," Bryant said, his mouth barely moving and his eyes remaining firmly locked with Chris'. "I want to know why he felt the need to call me a _freak_. So, _Mr. McLean_," he sneered, casting a sideways glance at Renaldo. "What made you decide to call me a freak, when all I did was offer you advice?"

Chris tried again to answer the seething boy, but found himself unable to do so. Bryant's mouth pulled downward into an even larger frown, and his arms shook violently.

"ANSWER ME!" he yelled as he shook Chris violently. Chris flinched, Zoey yelped, and Abbey gripped tightly onto Xavier's arm. Renaldo, however, took a more affirmative approach. He grabbed Bryant by the shoulders, turned him around, and flicked the smaller boy harshly on the nose.

As if a switch had been flipped somewhere within Bryant, he relinquished his grip on Chris, sending him plummeting to the ground, and the electricity that had seemed to crackle in his eyes fizzled out. He stared at Renaldo blankly, his mouth slightly agape as the gargantuan teen gripped him tightly.

Renaldo seemed to notice the change in Bryant's disposition and loosened his fingers' clench on the other boy's shoulders ever so slightly, though his stare remained intense and intimidating. "You got a problem needs dealin' with, Jekk?"

Being called "Jekk" seemed to draw Bryant out of his stupor, and he looked into Renaldo's eyes. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

Renaldo's gaze softened, and he let the boy down. He looked past Bryant, towards Chris, who had regained his composure, albeit a bit shakily. "Anything my associate and I can do you for, Mr. McLean?" he asked, nodding his head in Bryant's direction.

Chris looked at Renaldo, then to the now-calm Bryant. "N-no thanks, man," he said, his iconic sense of charisma slowly returning. "I should be good."

Bryant's face went pink, a contrast to the much more vivid red that it had been only moments ago. "I'm sorry," he squeaked, shrinking back into himself. "Wasn't myself there."

Renaldo draped an arm around Bryant, affectionately. "Fuhgeddaboutit," he said with a wave of his hand.

"Seriously, dude," Chris said. "I've dealt with worse competitors than you. Just caught me off guard is all." He chuckled lightly to emphasize his point, but all that came out was a pathetic giggle.

"I trust that there's no problem between you and Jekk then, Mr. McLean?" Renaldo asked.

Chris blew a tuft of air from between his lips. "Problem?" he asked. "Wouldn't see the point in it. Grudges only cause wrinkles, and we wouldn't want to ruin the work of art that is my handsome face, now would we?"

"Give me a break," Xavier muttered, standing off to the side with the Abbey and Zoey.

"No sir, Mr. McLean," Renaldo smiled. "We wouldn't want that." He turned to Bryant, and began to lead him to the other end of the dock. "Come on, Jekk."

Bryant stole a glance over his shoulder to look at Chris. Surprisingly true to his word, the host seemed to have moved past Bryant's sudden outburst, and was now staring out over the waters of Lake Wawanakwa, watching as the next boat approached the dock. Though he was pleased to see that his anger had not made a lasting impression, Bryant could not dismiss the confusion that reverberated inside his skull.

"What was that about?" he whispered to Renaldo, deciding to answer his own questions now, rather than later.

"Just consider it a favor," Renaldo whispered back. He leaned in close to Bryant's ear, and whispered even softer, "This may be a competition, but I don't wanna sees nobody lose because they decided to piss off the _Capo_."

Bryant frowned. "The what-o?"

"The _Capo_," Renaldo repeated. Then, when Bryant still didn't seem to understand, he elaborated. "The _boss_, wise guy. Mr. McLean over there is what we at home refer to as the _Capo dei capi_: the boss of all bosses. I'm sure a smart kid, such as yourself, knows that Mr. McLean is _not_ someone you wanna have beef with. Think of this contest as a game o' chess: Mr. McLean is the master, and we're all just pieces. You don't wanna start nothin' with him. Otherwise, he's-a see you as expendable and make sure you lose one way or another, capiche?"

Hesitantly, Bryant nodded, though his suspicions were not totally negated. "You're sure that's the only reason you stepped in for me back there?" he asked. "Or was there something else?"

Renaldo smiled. "You can never have too many friends in this game," he said with a wink. With that, he turned from Bryant, and stepped back to his previous spot, next to Zoey. Bryant looked at Renaldo with a sense of unease, and pulled at the collar of his t-shirt just as the boat pulled up along the dock, once again.

A girl with sun-kissed skin stepped off the boat, and smiled to herself, clearly excited to be on the show; Xavier rolled his eyes. "Did you only accept Gremlins this season, Chris?" he asked dryly, earning him a glare from Zoey and Abbey.

Though uncalled for, Xavier's statement did hold a bit of truth: the girl was just as short as Abbey and Zoey, perhaps two or three inches above the five-foot mark. Sporting a pair of hot pink shorts, along with a loud, busy _Adventure Time _tee, she looked more suited for a daycare center than a reality television show. The girl's smile dropped and she frowned at Xavier, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Oh, goody," she said, running her bright green eyes over the full length of Xavier. "The island has its very own Ice King."

As Xavier narrowed his eyes at the girl, Chris walked up to the girl, his award winning smile etched on his face once more. "Dudes and dudettes," he said, turning to the other competitors, "Bianca Brown." He then turned to look at Bianca. "Bianca Brown, dudes and dudettes."

Bianca tore her eyes away from Xavier and turned them instead to Chris. Her lips split into a broad, Cheshire cat smile. Then, with a strength unexpected from someone of her stature, she threw herself at the unsuspecting host, her brown-and-blue-streaked hair cascading into a long, wild curtain behind her. Her arms locked themselves tightly around Chris's shoulders, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, shrieking all the while.

When she finally pulled away – with another ear-splitting shriek of excitement – she threw her hands high above her head and thumped her sneakers roughly against the ground. "I can't believe I'm here!" she cheered, finally stopping her arm-flailing-foot-stomping routine. She turned to face the camera, and her hands reached out to grab the recording device roughly by the edges, much to Chris' horror. "Hi, Mom! Can you believe it?! Your little girl – ON INTERNATIONAL TELEVISION!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Chris hollered, batting Bianca away from the camera. "No touchy the camera! Okay?"

Bianca pouted for a moment, but her dismay subsided quickly. "Suit yourself!" she said with a shrug. "Screen time isn't my main concern, anyway."

"It's not?" Chris asked, as though Bianca had just burned a book telling the tales of an adolescent, British wizard and his emotionally enthralling journey toward ridding the world of an old evil, and instead decided to tell him a horrifically bland story about a sparkly, 400-year-old virgin of a vampire and his emotionally devoid love interest. **[3]**

Bianca shook her head. "Nope," she said simply. "I'm here to play my way to the top!"

Chris laughed at Bianca's enthusiasm. "Oh, yeah?" he asked. "What about the others? Think you can take all twenty-three of 'em?"

Bianca looked around Chris to stare at the other competitors. Abbey's eyes were closed, and she was humming the chorus to the Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun"; beside Abbey, Zoey had taken to bouncing her ball on her knee again, her tongue still clamped between her teeth in total concentration; Xavier looked downright unpleasant. The rest of the competitors were engaged in their own, respective activities, none of which made them seem particularly threatening.

"I think I'm good," Bianca said.

"Never count your chickens before they hatch," Bryant quipped. He then proceeded to stare off into nothingness, his three middle fingers on his right hand dancing before him, rising and falling in a strange rhythm. **[4]**

"The fr- Er… _Bryant_ has a point, Bianca," Chris said, thankful for having caught himself. "You sure that talking yourself up before the competition has even started is a good idea?"

"Maybe not," she said with a shrug. "But a little pride never hurt anyone."

"Tell that to Al Gore," Xavier said with a smirk.

"Or Romney," Deborah retorted. Xavier's ears went red.

"Well, time will tell if you have what it takes to win this game," Chris said to Bianca. "In the meantime, why don't you join the others?"

Bianca smiled at Chris again, and gave him another hug. After she released him, she skipped over to her competitors, taking a spot next to Abbey, who smiled at her.

The boat had returned, bearing a fifth female contestant, who stepped onto the dock. Her face was obscured from viewing, as it was pressed against the pages of a purple composition book, leaving only her blue beret visible. The eraser of a number-two pencil could be seen over the top of the book, bobbing back and forth as the girl ran it over the page, scribbling God knows what. Much to Xavier's chagrin, she looked just as short as the other girls.

"Cassidy!" Chris grinned, tugging the composition book out of the girl's hands, revealing her face.

Cassidy was very pretty, if not a bit on the chubby side. Her face was a soft shade of white, and fuller than the other girls' had been. Her eyes – which were currently widened at the surprise of having her notebook taken away from her – were round and spring green, giving her an ingénue-like appearance. A tiny button nose sat between them, over a set of small, pink lips. Beneath her beret, Cassidy's light brown hair was styled into a simple, orderly bob cut, with the ends curled gently outwards.

"Oh!" she said, dropping her hands, which had still been clutching a phantom notebook and pencil. "I'm sorry! I was just riding over here, when suddenly I was struck by a brilliant flash of inspiration for a screenplay!"

"Does it involve me?" Chris asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Do I star as the movie's hunky, charming lead, who must go on a brave, daring quest in order to win the guy – I mean, _girl_ of his dreams?" Chris' face blushed scarlet at his accidental slip.

"Yes on Prop 8," Xavier muttered, which earned him a swift elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Zoey.

"Not exactly," answered Cassidy, who had not heard Xavier's comment.

"Then I'm not interested," Chris said. And with that, he tossed the notebook over his shoulder. Cassidy yelped and ran after her beloved notebook, arms outstretched. She caught the notebook just before it fell off the edge of the Dock of Shame, and threw her hands up in a personal cheer. The movement caused her to lose her footing, and she fell backwards into the water, tossing her notebook to safety at the last second.

"I feel your pain," said Deborah, who had only just finished drying off. She extended an arm to Cassidy and pulled her out of the water.

"Thanks," Cassidy said, as she tentatively began to peel her soaked long sleeved, black V-neck off of her body.

"Don't mention it," Deborah said, helping Cassidy pull the sopping mess over her head.

As Cassidy and Deborah wrung Cassidy's shirt and did their best at drying Cassidy's jeans, another male contestant arrived on the Dock of Shame. In comparison to the other competitors, the boy was very fashion forward, almost to the point of distraction. His skin was noticeably bronzed, standing in a stark contrast to his hair, which was platinum blond and stuck out at strange odds and ends. (The other competitors mutually felt that, on anyone else, his haircut might have looked like neglected bedhead; however, something about the total sense of confidence that the boy exuded made the hairdo look exceptionally chic.)

The boy's outfit was equally as stylish: a handsome black jacket, hugged his torso, while the flared collar accented the length of his neck. Beneath the jacket, he wore a plum polo shirt, which, upon further inspection, had been purchased from the Ralph Lauren line. A pair of well-fitted, tan cargo pants hugged his legs; like every other bit of his wardrobe, the pants worked to emphasize their respective assets.

"Guten tag, Herr Van Housen," Chris greeted.

The boy frowned. "I'm Dutch," he said. Even his voice was fabulous, rolling off his tongue with a velvety, sultry tone.

"Details, details," Chris said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "What's important is that you're here! How're you feeling Kleine?"

Kleine smiled at Chris, his initial disdain forgotten. "I'm absolutely marvelous, Chris," he said, brushing a lock of his platinum hair out of his jade green eyes.

Cassidy, having just finished wringing out her shirt, looked up at Kleine. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes nearly vaulted out of her skull as she looked over his outfit. "I _love_ your outfit!" she gushed, running over to Kleine to inspect his wardrobe at a closer range.

Kleine's smile broadened, and he did a small twirl to give her a view of his outfit from all angles. "Oh, you like it?" he asked, looking over the garment affectionately.

Cassidy nodded and moved to touch his jacket. She stopped herself and looked to Kleine. "May I?" she asked.

Kleine nodded, and Cassidy ran her fingers over the jacket's soft material. "This jacket is exquisite," she said, mouth gaping like a cod. "Who made this?"

If possible, Kleine's smile grew even larger. "I made it," he said. He affectionately pet the sleeve that Cassidy was ogling. "One of my finer creations. I designed it with alterations in mind, you know."

"How do you mean?"

Kleine brought his fingers to the elbow of his jacket. Between his thumb and forefinger, he gripped a zipper that Cassidy hadn't even noticed was there. He tugged at the zipper's slider, pulling it from one end of the elbow all the way around. With a faint metallic click, the sleeve separated in two, leaving Kleine's forearm exposed. Cassidy smiled.

"This jacket is _beautiful_," she sighed. She took the separated sleeve in her hand, and stroked the fabric again. "That's incredibly innovative; I didn't even notice the zipper."

"That's not all," Kleine said. He pulled his leg up so that his knee was at chest level. He directed Cassidy's attention to another set of concealed zippers, which began at the knee and ran horizontally, vertically, and several other directions from that point.

Cassidy clapped her hands together, excitedly. Chris, however, was less impressed.

"Can we keep it moving?" he snapped. "I've only gone through nine of your losers, and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep the audience's attention."

Kleine flipped his hair dramatically. "The audience is sure to be entertained as long as you keep me on camera, Chris," he purred.

Chris shuddered, and stuck out his tongue. "Just keep moving, bucko," he said. Kleine frowned, and he and Cassidy walked to the other end of the dock, talking about Kleine's jacket all the while.

"Unbelievable," Chris said to himself, cupping his forehead tiredly. "_This_ is the group of teens the producers chose? _These_ weirdoes are supposed to make for an interesting season?"

Bryant broke out of his trance, once again. "Never judge a book based by its cover, Chris," he said, sharply. "Surely your mother taught you that?"

Chris shook his head. "No," he said. "She didn't. She was too distracted by what a handsome baby she'd given birth to."

Bryant rolled his eyes. "Narcissist," he muttered.

The boat had returned, and another girl stepped onto the Dock of Shame, twirling a purple Blow-Pop between her fingers. Her lips – which were stained a light violet from the sugary confection – were pursed in a look of total apathy, and her glasz-colored eyes looked over her fellow competitors, scanning them as if to determine whether or not they were up to her standards of social acceptability. Evidently, they met her expectations, and her pout melted into a relaxed smile.

"Sloan!" Chris cried to the girl.

The girl glanced at Chris with a cheeky grin. "What's up, doofus?" she asked with a wink.

"Good to have ya," Chris said, ignoring the nickname. "And may I say, you look F-I-N-E, _fine_!"

Though it was a bit off-putting to the competitors, having Chris hit on one of his underage outlets for his sadistic nature, they could not refute the fact that Sloan was rather beautiful. Her skin was gently tanned, and her muscles were toned in a way that was alluring, and not overwhelming. Her hair was strawberry blonde in color, and hung on either side of her face in a set of short, braided pigtails. A collared jersey, sporting a large 10 on the front, clung tightly to Sloan's large chest and exposed Sloan's pierced naval. A pair of red, skintight jeans covered Sloan's legs, held up by a black belt.

"Thanks, Chris," Sloan said, taking another lick from her sucker. "You're looking pretty good yourself. Most people can't pull off the forty-something-year-old-desperately-trying-to-rel ive-his-youthful-days-look, but you really make it work."

"Thanks," Chris said. "I try my – _Hey!_ What do you mean _forty_ something?!"

Sloan ignored Chris, however, having already made her way over to her fellow competitors. She took a spot beside Zoey and eyed the soccer ball that she was bouncing.

"I'm a field hockey girl, myself," Sloan said, proudly.

"No kidding?" Zoey said, taking a pause from her bouncing to look at Sloan.

Sloan nodded. "The name's Sloan St. North," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. Zoey followed the direction of Sloan's thumb, and peered at the back of her shirt. 'St. North' was printed in a large, black letters on the back of Sloan's shirt.

"Nice name," Zoey said. "I'm Zoey O'Donaldson."

Sloan extended a fist to Zoey, who bumped her own fist against it. "Nice to see that there might be some competition for me," Sloan said with a grin, before turning to look out at the lake.

Another boat was approaching the dock, bearing another male contestant. From their spot on the dock, however, the other competitors could only see the boy's head. As the boat drew closer to the dock, they could make out the faint tanned tone of his skin, and the vibrant green of his relaxed eyes. His hair was straight and red, and brushed to the side of his angular face.

Xavier scoffed. "What, Chris?" he sneered. "Did you cast a midget for this season? All this diversity is making me nauseous."

The boat came to a stop along the dock.

"Hayden!" Chris welcomed.

A ramp folded down from the boat's deck, and planted itself on the dock. With a slight creek, the boy made his way onto the Dock of Shame. Xavier shifted a bit uncomfortably, upon realizing that the boy was in a wheelchair.

"I'll bet you feel like an ass, don'tcha?" Kleine asked, nudging Xavier's shoulder.

The boy rolled himself onto the dock, steadily, revealing the rest of himself to his fellow competitors. It appeared as though he would be a tall boy, if he were standing erect. He wore an unbuttoned, grey-and-yellow flannel over a bright pink undershirt. The undershirt was tucked into a pair of black, fitted jeans, which bunched at the ankles, nearly obscuring his black Converse from view. A pair of silver, thin-framed glasses covered his eyes.

"Hey, Chris," Hayden greeted in return. He smiled at the other competitors. "Hey, guys. Great to be here."

"Great to have you here, man," Chris said, smiling down at the wheelchair-bound boy. He turned to the others. "As you can all see, Hayden here is confined to a wheelchair, meaning that he will be at a bit of a disadvantage throughout the competition."

"A bit?" Deborah asked, worriedly. "Chris, let's be realistic here: You're quite possibly the most sadistic man in the entirety of Canada-"

"No need to say 'possibly,' Deb," Chris said with a smile.

"Whatever the case, you have a penchant for coming up with a variety of difficult, life-threatening challenges. How do you expect someone in a wheelchair to compete when the odds are stacked so highly against them? No offense, Hayden," she added.

Hayden smiled and held up his hands. "None taken," he said, reassuringly. "Deborah, is it?"

Deborah nodded.

Hayden smiled again. "I thank you for your concern," he said, rolling to meet Deborah. "However, I'm fully aware what being a competitor on this show entails. I know that the living conditions are brutal, and that the challenges are even worse; I know that this competition isn't exactly handicap-friendly. But I'll be darned if I won't try!"

He leaned back in his wheelchair, balancing on the back wheels, and did a series of turns, laughing all the while. Deborah and the other competitors laughed along with him, albeit with some of them a bit uncomfortably.

"I know I have a disability," Hayden continued, stopping his spinning. "But I'm in it to win it, and I intend to endure every single challenge that you guys do."

"I like this kid!" Bianca cheered, running up to Hayden and jumping into his lap. Hayden didn't seem to mind the intrusion of his personal space, or at least didn't voice his protest. "He's got grit! Hopefully you're on my team!"

Hayden chuckled, and pushed Bianca off of his lap, gently. "Well, here's hoping," he said. He turned to Chris. "Shall I join the others, then?"

Chris gestured to the dock. "Be my guest."

Bianca ran around to the other side of Hayden's wheelchair and gripped the handlebars. "I can tell you and I are going to be friends," she said, dancing along the dock with Hayden's wheelchair gripped in her hands. Hayden just laughed.

As Bianca rolled Hayden to a stop, the boat returned. A girl eased herself onto the dock. She looked as though she had just popped out of an old 50's cartoon, with various layers of black, grey, and white clothing covering her lithe form. Her hair was dyed to match the color scheme perfectly, with her platinum white bangs standing in a stark contrast to the natural river of ebony that flowed down her back. The only sort of color on the girl came from her eyes, which were an eerie shade of sea foam green that somehow managed to looked both candid and calculating at the same time.

"I'm all for neutral colors," Kleine whispered to Cassidy, as the girl stepped further along the dock. "But I do think that she's going a bit over-the-top with her selection. Don't you?"

"Vanessa!" Chris smiled, walking up to the girl.

Vanessa glanced at Chris. "Chris," she said, her voice surprisingly warm and effervescent for someone so monochromatic. "It's a _pleasure_ to be here."

Chris beamed. "It's always a pleasure when I'm around," he said. "But, more to the point, how's our resident chess master?"

"Ah," Cassidy whispered back to Kleine. "That would explain the color scheme. Classic character example of art imitating life."

"I just thought that she was aiming to look like a slightly more approachable Wednesday Addams," Kleine admitted. "But I like your theory better."

Vanessa's eyes darted over to Kleine and Cassidy, before darting back to Chris just as quickly. "I'm doing quite well, thank you," she said. "I take it that the introductions are going well?"

Chris sighed. "Hardly," he said, slouching slightly. "These introductions are proving to be more tedious than any other season."

Vanessa smiled tenderly. "Perhaps you should cut to commercial, then?" she asked. "Let the audience take a breather, before introducing the remaining competitors?"

Chris perked up at Vanessa's notion. "Y'know, that actually sounds like a great idea!"

Vanessa smiled, though something about her grin seemed a bit foreboding.

Chris, meanwhile, turned toward the camera. "Per Vanessa's suggestion, we are going to take a commercial break, and will introduce the remaining twelve competitors when we come back! So stayed tuned, and don't change that channel! We'll be back shortly with more from _Total! Drama! Throwback!"_

* * *

**A/N:** And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the first set of character introductions! I'm sorry that it took so long for me to post it, and I'm sorry for how long that the chapter is. I just try my hardest to give the characters that I utilize their fair share of screen time. I hope that you enjoyed it, and I look forward to your feedback on the chapter! Seriously, be as detailed as you see fit! **CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!**

**Up Next:** The remaining twelve competitors are introduced, and the rules of the competition are laid out.

**[1] **The name Mrs. Pachyderm is a reference to the Republican Party's mascot: an elephant. The elephant is sometimes referred to as a pachyderm.

**[2]** "Out of clutter, find simplicity" is a quote by Albert Einstein.

**[3]** Is my allegiance in the whole _Harry Potter_ vs. _Twilight_ battle showing? I worked so hard to keep that under wraps.

**[4]** Just to clarify, Bryant is not just randomly moving his fingers. Rather, he is going over notes in his head, and moving his fingers up and down according to how one would play them on a trumpet. This is a nod to his biography, wherein his creator stated that he was a trumpeter.


End file.
